


Not Because You Look Like

by Ataraxetta, checkthemargins



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Five Times, Humor, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multimedia, Pining, Ridiculousness, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-27 03:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ataraxetta/pseuds/Ataraxetta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Chris Evans tried to make Sebastian Stan fall in love with him, and the one time it worked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This is intensely cheesy and even more ridiculous and I have no excuses for it, but hope you enjoy! And a huge thank you to Nika for all the help and indulgence.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these people or these movies or anything at all, really. No money is being made, this is just for kicks.

**_prologue_**

Taped Transcript of Pre-Production Press Junket for Recurring Cast Members  
Captain America: The Winter Soldier  
March 27, 2013  
**HAI** : HollywoodAccessInsider  
**CE** : Chris Evans  
**SJ** : Scarlett Johansson  
**SLJ** : Samuel L. Jackson

**HAI** : Hi everyone, this is Jeanette Franklin here with Chris Evans, Scarlett Johansson, and Samuel L. Jackson from the upcoming Marvel movie _Captain America: The Winter Soldier._ Thanks so much letting me drop by today, guys.

 **CE** : Of course, of course. It's nice to see you.

 **HAI** : You know, Chris, I feel like you must have been growing that out since the last round of Marvel interviews.

 **SJ** : [stroking **CE** 's beard] Isn't it magnificent?

 **HAI** : It really is.

 **SLJ** : [stroking **CE** 's beard] It's sleek, right? Looks healthy. He's a healthy young buck.

 **CE** : Thanks, Sam, that means a lot.

 **SLJ** : Only tellin' the truth, kid.

 **SJ** : They flirt like this all the time.

 **CE** : I have to get rid of it soon, so I'm trying to show it off as much as possible now. So thank you, for noticing, I appreciate it.

 **HAI** : No problem! Your hair has to be lighter too, right? When does the Captain America transformation happen?

 **CE** : Oh, yeah, they like to do that as close to filming as possible, so I'm scheduled for the last round on Saturday. Scarlett yours is…?

 **SJ** : Black Widow returns this afternoon.

 **HAI** : Might be fun to be a redhead again for a while, right?

 **SJ** : Yeah, it kind of gets me in the right mindset.

 **HAI** : What about you, Sam?

 **SLJ** : I don't need any work done.

 **HAI** : Oh. Oh, right, of course.

 **SLJ** : Nick Fury would have some trouble shaving, I think. I just get a little sculpting done. Evansy here probably has to shave three times a day.

 **CE** : Actually they wax it.

 **SLJ** : Shit, man.

 **HAI** : They wax your facial hair?

 **CE** : It lasts longer, is the logic behind it I think. They just rip it right out. It's really, super painful. The most painful thing that happens on set.

_[ **SJ** snorting derisively]_

**HAI** : Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I got sidetracked by the beard.

 **CE** : It happens.

 **SLJ** : Everybody does.

 **HAI** : I know that Anthony Mackie and Robert Redford and a few other newcomers are flying in, but you three are recurring Marvel cast members from The Avengers and of course the first Captain America movie. I think we're missing one of you, though. Bucky Barnes is back as the Winter Soldier in this one. Is Sebastian Stan in the role again?

 **CE** : Oh, yeah, definitely. Sebastian's back as Bucky.

 **SJ** : He doesn't start filming for a few weeks. I think he comes in…

 **CE** : May 4th. Well he starts work on the 6th, but he arrives the 4th.

 **HAI** : Oh, great, doing my research for me, that's awesome.

 **CE** : Well I mean, I just talked to him the other day, and he told me. So it's still like, fresh in my mind.

 **HAI** : You guys get along pretty well, then?

 **CE** : Oh, God, yeah. He's great, yeah, we've kept in touch since the last movie. He's just a really sweet guy. Sweetest guy you'll ever meet. And so funny, too. And such a great actor, y'know? He can do these things with just his like, expression. Just his face. Convey this emotion that's really just amazing. We read through a lot of people for Bucky, but as soon as Sebastian walked in I—we kind of knew. He's just perfect.

 _[extended silence_ ]

 **CE** : For the role, I mean.

 _[extended silence_ ]

_[ **SLJ** laughing]_

 

 

 

**_one._ **

May fourth is warm and balmy even as the sun sets and Chris has spent the last ten hours training on combat choreography, which is to say he's been having his ass handed to him on a silver platter.

"You seem distracted," Grillo had said.

"Just tired," Chris had lied.

"Why does your calendar have heart and burger emojis all over it today?" Grillo had asked.

"How did you get into my phone?" Chris had replied.

He and Grillo are at a bar, now, along with Mackie and Scarlett and her boyfriend Romain. It's Elvis themed and three blocks from their hotel in Beverly Hills and usually not very crowded, which is ideal for Chris's nerves. The other four have been shooting the shit for the last hour, while Chris has made his way through four glasses of water and a milkshake, a basket of _Love Me (Chicken) Tender_ s, two entrees under the _Hunka Hunka Burnin' Grub_ section, and is now working on a plate of steak-and-jalapeno _Bossa Nachos Baby_.

He's keeping a careful eye on Mackie as he eats. Mackie's trying to be casual, but he's too obvious about not looking directly at Chris's plate. He's getting impatient but Chris is ready. Mackie darts his hand in toward Chris's food fast like a snake but Chris is faster. Like a mongoose. He smacks the shit out of Mackie's hand and Mackie recoils with a yelp. 

"Yeah!" Chris cries out in unexpected triumph. He hadn't actually thought that would work. "Did you see that! I'm a fuckin' mongoose."

"You’re a fuckin' asshole," says Mackie, scowling.

"Nah, man, I'm that—What's that mongoose? In the story?"

"Ticky something?" Romain says, and then looks to Scarlett. "Do you remember?"

"Yes," she says, but doesn't seem inclined to shed any light.

"Ticky sounds right," says Chris, frowning thoughtfully, and then decides he doesn't care. He shrugs and jabs a nacho in Mackie's general direction. "Whatever. Not an asshole, a mongoose."

"Who's an asshole and a mongoose?" says someone behind Chris.

Weight settles on the back of the booth behind Chris and he looks to Scarlett for guidance and is both unsurprised and disappointed when all she does is scrunch her nose up and make a bunny face. Bravely, Chris tilts his head back to look upside down at their new arrival. Sebastian is all big eyes and pretty smile and breathtaking beauty. Chris has a messy nacho stuffed halfway into his face.

"Heya," says Sebastian, grinning down at him.

"Hawoo," says Chris. He's been holding a bitten-into jalapeno in his mouth for too long now. It's burning a hole in his tongue. His eyes are starting to well up. Sebastian makes a stupid face and Chris tries to laugh but chokes instead, throat blocked, blood rushing to his face while he gags and flails around wildly for a glass of water. Grillo hands him his own.

"Smooth, bro."

"Evans is an asshole," Romain answers Sebastian, over Scarlett and Mackie laughing outright at Chris. "And a mongoose, apparently."

Chris has gratefully dislodged nacho from his windpipe and is gulping down Grillo's water. Sebastian nods as though this all makes sense. "Why a mongoose? Like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi?"

"Rikki-Tikki-Tavi!" Chris shouts. Well, gasps, and then pounds himself on the chest and belches unexpectedly. He covers his mouth with both hands. "S'cuse me."

"Wow," says Scarlett.

Sebastian looks like he's trying not to laugh, teeth dug gently into his full bottom lip. "I feel like I've missed something."

"God," Chris groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. This is exactly how he'd hoped his first encounter with Sebastian in over a year would go.

"You didn't miss anything. Just Chris at his most attractive," Scarlett says, and Mackie is laughing and _eating Chris's goddamn nachos_.

"Fuck off," Chris grouses at both of them.

"Chris is always attractive," says Sebastian, squeezing Chris's shoulders. Chris's stomach squirms happily.

"See? Basha here has morals. He's loyal." No longer choking, Chris slides out of the booth to stand up and greet Sebastian properly. "He loves me for me."

"Not because you look like Leonardo," Sebastian agrees. His eyes are twinkling, like sapphires. Chris can't actually see the color all that well in the dim light but he feels in his bones that it's true. He looks good, in a black t-shirt and skinny jeans and boots made for stompin'. His hair is Winter Soldier long, tucked endearingly behind his ear on one side and Chris thinks _Oh, I could pull on that_ , and gets so caught up in thinking about it that it's only Sebastian's melodious laughter that brings him out of his daze.

"Sorry, what?" he asks.

Sebastian looks expectant. "Are you just gonna stand there or do I get a hug, asshole?"

"Mongoose," Chris corrects automatically, but he tugs Sebastian in all the same. He smells magnificent, like some exotic wild flower or possibly Bond No. 9. His cheek is stubbly against Chris's face and he's chewing gum obnoxiously like a cow right by Chris's ear but Chris has never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. He's gonna keep it cool, one-armed bro hug it out, but they end up embracing like long lost lovers in the nighttime. Which is nice, until Sebastian's arms tighten and Chris squeaks, because he's bruised all over.

"Oh, shit, are you okay?" Sebastian asks, drawing back with a concerned look on his face. Chris's inner struggle to not burst into Whitney Houston right here in the bar is the hardest fight he's had all day.

"He's fine," Grillo says, and leans over the back of the booth to offer Sebastian a hand, which Sebastian reaches around Chris to shake. "Frank Grillo."

"Sebastian, or Basha, usually, around this set. You're Rumlow, right?"

"Yep, that's me. But really, don't mind Evansy here. He and I spent the day with Stweeby getting our asses kicked so he's a little beat up."

Sebastian looks between them. "Stweeby?"

"Sam," Chris corrects. "My stunt double, Sam."

"AKA Stweeby Wobbers," says Mackie. He's polished off the rest of Chris's food and Chris watches him pat his mouth with a napkin daintily.

Sebastian laughs. "Seriously?"

"Yours is James," says Grillo. "AKA Wubby Warnes."

"You'll notice they choose not to hang out with us in the evenings," Chris says. Sebastian laughs again and his smile is infectious. He's still hanging back, endearingly and sort of heartbreakingly shy the way he's been since Chris met him. Chris wraps an arm around his shoulders as casually as possible and guides him to the end of the table so he can see everyone. "So that's Grillo, and there's Anthony Mackie the food thief snake—"

"Ah, hence the mongoose?"

"Quick study," Chris tells him with a grin. "This is Scarlett."

Sebastian smiles dashingly and shakes Scarlett's hand. "Hey, nice to meet you."

"You too," she says. She can do this thing where she's being completely sincere and focusing all of her attention on somebody else, but also has her tongue in her cheek and it's directed right at Chris. He pretends not to notice, and she introduces Romain.

There's not really enough room for Sebastian to squeeze into either side of the booth, so he pulls a chair up to the end of the table and small talk about flights and filming schedules commences. Sebastian, Mackie and Grillo start in on who has to get up the earliest in the mornings, while Scarlett sends Chris a series of discreet but pointed eyebrow movements ( _Are you gonna make a move? You're so embarrassing. Buy him a drink._ ) and Chris answers in kind ( _Shut up. Not now. Is my hair okay?_ ). He does order Sebastian a drink and a bacon cheeseburger with avocado, though, because he knows Sebastian loves those.

"You remembered!" Sebastian says when it arrives, a dramatic hand to his chest. "I'm touched."

Chris shrugs and shuffles his feet under the table, accidentally nudging them into everyone else's. Next to him, Grillo has a whispered epiphany, "Oh! Hearts and burgers," and grunts when Chris elbows him in the chest.

"Well it looks like you could use it," Mackie is saying to Sebastian. "I mean, I'm not saying anything, but you're kind of small. In the body area. For someone who's supposed to be the Winter Soldier."

"Oh, damn, shots fired," Scarlett says, leaning back in the booth so that Anthony and Sebastian can see each other better.

"Hey, now," Sebastian says.

"Just a little weeny, is all I mean," says Mackie. "So it's more like. The Wiener Soldier."

Chris and Scarlett groan, too much time spent with Mackie, but Romain, Grillo and Sebastian lose their shit laughing. Mackie's ability to keep a straight face is unmatched, but he's oozing smugness anyway. He's probably the funniest person Chris has ever met, but no one thinks Anthony Mackie is as hilarious as Anthony Mackie does.

"That's not fair," Sebastian drawls once he's collected him, cocky smile on his face. Anthony eyes Sebastian's plate of french fries and Chris mouths _mongoose_ at him. It's a warning well taken.

"What are you, eleven?" Mackie says to Sebastian. "Life's not fair. Not everyone can have a body like mine, kid. Do you know how long I worked on my body for this role? You have to be committed."

"I am! I've spent the last five months—"

"Ha!" Mackie shouts, chin in the air. "Ha ha ha! Five months! I've been at mine for _ten_. In the gym twenty-four/seven, shoveling five thousand calories down every goddamn day. Up at four a.m..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, grandpa," says Sebastian. "Did you walk to school every morning barefoot in the snow back in your day, too?"

"Up hill both fuckin' ways, baby boy. And they _still_ won't let Falcon wear spandex," Mackie says grumpily. "Where is the appreciation? Where is the justice? Hey, dude, can I have a French fry?"

"Sure, yeah," Sebastian says. Mackie looks pointedly at Chris as he takes a fry from Sebastian's plate, but Chris is suddenly the object of Sebastian's attention and nothing else really matters. "You're on my side, right? I mean I like your friend and all--" He pauses to give Mackie a pointed look that makes Mackie laugh--"But for Bucky they said they were going for like, _lean_ , y'know?"

"Yeah, totally," Chris says, rapt. "Like a soccer player."

"Exactly," says Sebastian, looking pleased, while Mackie rolls his eyes. "He's supposed to be fast. Aerodynamic. Not built like a brick shithouse. Besides, I can't eat as much as you guys must have to. I've tried, it doesn't work."

"That's all Chris does is eat. Eat and exercise. Protein bars and squats all day everyday," Scarlett says, picking fries off Sebastian's plate as well. She puts three in her mouth and talks around them. "I think they're hoping he'll build up more of an ass."

Chris has heard this a lot. He can hardly even work up any exasperation. "Leave my ass alone. My ass is fine."

"Perfectly nice," Scarlett agrees with her mouth still full. It's pretty disgusting. She's great. "Just a bit on the small side."

"We call him Captain Smallass," Grillo adds, for Sebastian's benefit. Chris's dressing room says Captain Smallass on the door.

Romain smiles pleasantly and tips his glass in a toast at Chris and Sebastian. "Captain Smallass and the Weiner Soldier."

Sebastian shakes his head, eyes finding Chris's again. "We don't need them. They're jerks. We'll be fine on our own, won't we?"

 _Birth my babies,_ Chris thinks fiercely at him. Out loud he says, in a rare burst of eloquence, "Yeah."

 

*

 

Scarlett finds him in the bathroom of the bar later.

"This is the men's room," Chris tells her.

"We're the only ones in here, it's fine," says Scarlett.

"I'm _peeing._ "

"You _were_ peeing. You stopped when I came in. Performance anxiety?"

"You're funny."

Scarlett smiles prettily, peering down his body. They've seen each other naked so many times it's almost a non-issue but they're not being peeled out of their costumes right now, so Chris blushes when Scarlett gives an appreciative whistle. 

"Hey!"

"What? You've got nothing to be shy about. You're obviously a shower _and_ a grower."

Scandalized, Chris puts his dick back in his jeans and zips up. Scarlett joins him by the sinks while he washes his hands. He catches her gaze in the mirror and doesn't trust the innocent look on her face one bit. "What'd you want that couldn't wait for me to get back to the table?"

"Your boy." Scarlett shrugs, a fond smile curling her lips. "He's charming. I like him. He's kinda awkward, in an endearing way. And he's good looking, which is a plus."

"'Good looking,'" Chris scoffs. Please. Sebastian Stan is gorgeous. His lips are like perfect fat pink cloud pillows. His brow bone is a thing of majesty. His smile a gift of angels. He wears clothes and he does it really good. He smells like sunshine. Scarlett is totally mean in the way she laughs at him, but Chris patiently loses himself in thoughts of lying Sebastian down on the thick grass of a springtime meadow and making sweet, sweet love to him while she gets herself together. His lips are tingling from his fantasy. He touches them. 

He doesn't realize how creepily he's smiling until he sees himself in the mirror, and once he does he clears his throat and slouches in his most casual and sexiest manner, forgetting that his hands are wet so when he puts them in his pockets they get his jeans damp. He frowns at them unhappily when he pulls them out again. "Anyway."

Scarlett hands him two paper towels from the dispenser by the sink. "You should ask him out."

"What?" says Chris, letting out an incredulous little laugh, like she hasn't told him this repeatedly and often. "No."

"I think it's a great idea," says Scarlett. All of her ideas are great ideas and she'll be the first to tell you so. "He's hot, you're hot, you have a giant gaping crush on his pretty face."

"I do _not_ ," Chris argues. She gives him a look that's so condescending he feels physically affected by it and his voice comes out apologetic when he amends, "Not just his pretty face."

"Ask him out," says Scarlett. "For breakfast or coffee or something."

He hums seriously. He fell halfway in love with Sebastian during the filming of _The First Avenger_ , and the rest of the way over the occasional and cherished conversations they've had since. At no point in all that time has he ever once even considered making a move. "Yeah, that sounds exactly like something I have the balls to do."

"You should just do it," she tells him. "He might even say yes. If you don't make too much of an ass out of yourself."

"Thanks. For the vote of confidence, there."

"Aw, Puppy," Scarlett says in a baby voice, getting to her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "You know everyone wants you."

"I know that," Chris says sullenly, chucking the paper towels in the trashcan. "But would it kill all you guys to say it every once in a while?"

Scarlett pats him comfortingly on the butt, and they leave the men's room arm-in-arm.

 

*

 

They all walk back to the hotel together a little after eleven. Mackie, Grillo, and Scarlett and Romain disperse into their rooms on the twenty-sixth floor, and Chris shoves his hands into his pockets nervously when the elevator door closes again. He and Sebastian are on the twenty-seventh. "What room are you in?" he asks.

"2719."

Chris is in 2738, all the way across the floor. "Cool, I'll walk you there."

Sebastian tilts his head, polite smile confused. "Uh, I can probably find it, you don't have to—"

"It's cool, I want to," says Chris, really fast, and when Sebastian looks startled Chris schools his features into _Aw, shucks_ Steve Rogers and pretends he's not acting like a lunatic.

"All right, sure," Sebastian agrees in a tone that implies he already _knows_ Chris is a lunatic, and still doesn't mind spending time with him, so that's heartening. Chris lets Sebastian precede him out of the elevator when the doors open again, and quirks a smile when Sebastian knocks their shoulders together as they walk. "I like your friends."

"Oh, yeah? Good." Chris tells him. "They'll be your friends, too, trust me. But yeah, they're great. Scarlett runs a tight ship."

"I can tell that. Rules with an iron fist. I think I'm already more afraid of screwing up around her than I am in front of the Russos."

"Ah, don't worry about that. You won't screw up. Not anymore than the rest of us. Grillo's already broken a finger and one of the Hellicarriers sort of exploded and Mackie can't keep his mouth shut to save his life, especially when he should. No one's been fired yet."

Sebastian grins. "Mackie's funny. You two have good, like, chemistry. They cast him really well."

"He knows," Chris deadpans. "I'll introduce you to Cobie and Sam tomorrow, they're both in town for a few days."

"Sam?"

Chris nods. "Yeah, like, Jackson."

Sebastian's shoulders hunch a little, shy again in a way that makes Chris's breath catch unnecessarily. He looks up at Chris in admiration and speaks in an awed whisper. "You call Samuel L. Jackson 'Sam'?"

Chris laughs out loud, unbearably fond. "Oh my God, dude, yes. It's his name."

"I'm going to cry like a little girl if I meet him, just so you know," Sebastian says. "You can't introduce me. I mean you have to. Like I'm gonna cry big Cinderella tears. And when Robert Redford even sets foot into the same building I'm probably going to piss myself."

"All of us will, dude," Chris says seriously. "Even Sam calls him Mr. Redford."

"You know," Sebastian says, a little nervous like he's confessing. "Of everyone though, I'm actually a huge nerdy fan of Frank Grillo's."

Chris grins, shocked. "Really?"

"Yeah, man, I fucking loved _Prison Break_."

"Oh man, I couldn't even tell if you'd ever seen him before," says Chris, laughing delightedly. "You played it so cool!"

"Thank God," Sebastian says weakly, leaning into Chris's side like he's swooning. "I was afraid he'd notice."

Sebastian's door looms ahead, and Chris's nerves are still caught somewhere around his belly button. Sebastian fishes in the back pocket of his impossibly tight jeans for his wallet to pull his key card out. He has pretty hands. He has a prettier ass. 

"So, uh, thanks for the escort," he says when they've got nowhere left to walk.

"Sure, yeah." Chris ducks his head and smiles, lets out a slow breath. "So, um, d'you work tomorrow?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "Not really, no. I gotta stop by the studio and see if the arm fits like it's supposed to, but other than that I'm free. You?"

"Nah, just gym stuff in the morning. Free in the afternoon." 

"Nice."

Chris tries to think of something suave to say, each worse than the last (Do you wanna grab lunch? How about you hit the gym with me? We could get coffee? I think you're beautiful. Let me take you to dinner tomorrow? I like your outfit. Do you wash your pants with Windex? 'Cause I can practically see myself in them). He can't get anything out, though. It's not a good idea, and he knows it. It's Sebastian's first day. Chris has no idea what Sebastian's sexual orientation is. He could get rejected and it'd be awkward. Sebastian could say _yes_ and it could be even worse. His friendship means too much to Chris to risk it. They have to work together. Fishing in the company pond is always a bad idea.

"Hey," says Sebastion, once the silence has stretched out for a while. He searching Chris's face for something he must not find, brow furrowing. "What's up?"

Chris shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully. "Nothin', just. Y'know, tired. Bruised."

"Mm," says Sebastian, though he looks unconvinced.

Chris claps him companionably on the shoulder. "Hey, have a good night, man."

Sebastian's face lights up with a smile, perplexed though he may still be, and he grabs Chris's wrist and tugs until Chris stumbles into a very unexpected hug. Sebastian's laughter is breathy. "You're so weird. I'd forgotten how weird you are."

Chris hides his grin momentarily against Sebastian's shoulder, arm hooked around Sebastian's waist and both of Sebastian's around his shoulders. Chris has missed him, and it hasn't really hit home how much until now. It's not fair, how much Chris wants him. He squeeze Sebastian's hip once before he pulls back, pushing his fists into his pockets again. "Yeah, well. It's a gift."

Sebastian bites his lip on another smile. "It's gonna be good workin' with you again, man."

"You too," Chris says sincerely, and then clears his throat and nods toward Sebastian's closed door. "Anyway, get some sleep. I'll see you around, yeah?"

Sebastian hums an agreement, turning around to unlock his room, tossing one last grin over his shoulder. "G'night, Chris."

"Night, Basha."

He waits until the door is closed and he's utterly alone in the hallway before he breaks into the most ridiculous, spastic interpretive dance of pure frustration ever danced as he makes his way back down the hallway. By the time he gets to the elevator hub, he has his hands curled into claws on either side of his head and lips pulled back away from his teeth. One of the elevators dings open to reveal an elderly couple and a little girl. They stare in evident horror and the woman pushes the kid behind her protectively.

Chris rights himself, sheepish. The little girl sticks her head out from behind her grandmother's hip.

"Are you a pretending to be a dinosaur?" she asks.

"Er, no," says Chris. "Sorry."

They stare at him. Chris smiles tightly, gathers what's left of his dignity and returns to his room, where he collapses facedown and open-mouthed on the bed until his phone vibrates pleasantly in his pocket.

He chucks his phone at the headboard. He needs new friends, and it's going to be a long few months.

**_TBC_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nickname Basha is shamelessly stolen from one of my good friends (also named Sebastian, of course), whose family made it up for him. It's too precious not to use!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! Sorry for the long wait, I had several other fic commitments to get through before I could come back to this. I hope you enjoy! And please note the change in rating. :) Endless thanks to Nika for putting up with me whining about this for weeks and also the awesome beta.

**_two._ **

*

It's early, a little after five in the morning, maybe twenty minutes before Chris's alarm is due to go off. He had some sort of dream that woke him up hard and halfway to coming, the chill in the room tightening his nipples and goosebumps breaking out across his skin. He's still not entirely awake when as he curls his hand around his dick and gives himself a firm stroke.

He hasn't gotten laid in a couple months, and with the way he's spending a solid seventy percent of his time exercising he's constantly full of endorphins. Since the object of his affections arrived a couple weeks ago, he's gotten so familiar with his right hand that he's been half-expecting it to stop putting out in protest. He could probably write a self-help book at this point ( _Mastering Masturbation: a guide to blowing your wad three times a day without contracting carpal tunnel_ ). He buries his face in his pillow and squeezes his prick just hard enough to make himself gasp.

It feels good, hot, makes little sparks of pleasure surge up his spine. He rolls onto his back and kicks the sheets off, pulls his knees up and spreads his legs a bit more. It's just the right side of painful to do it dry, makes him clench his teeth. He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and rubs his cheek against his pillow, tilts his hips up into his hand. He tries really hard to focus on just the physical sensation, the lazy good feeling making him start to sweat, but as soon as he starts actively trying _not_ to think about him, Sebastian's right there at the forefront of his mind.

He makes a quiet sound that feels thick in his throat, palms over the head of his cock and smears the precome that's gathered at the tip down over the length, gets himself wet so he can fuck into his fist properly. Chris hasn't ever been a huge fantasizer when it comes to getting himself off, but Sebastian gets his creative juices flowing, in every context of the word. It's too easy to imagine Sebastian here with him, heavy eyed and sleep-soft, hair tangled and cheeks flushed with arousal. 

Maybe he'd be all stretched out, bare and gorgeous, long legs open. Maybe he'd let Chris wake him up with his mouth around his prick and God, what does that look like? Is he cut? Is he big? What sounds does he make when he's getting his dick sucked? Or maybe it'd work the other way around, Sebastian's full lips wrapped around Chris's cock while he looks up at him through long eyelashes, lets Chris rut into his mouth, pull on his hair, shoot down his throat.

Chris is panting now, heart pounding. He reaches his free hand down to cup his balls and tightens his fingers around his dick. He wonders if Sebastian's talkative during sex, or if he's quiet, biting back the sounds he wants to make. Chris wants to taste him, wants to bend him over and fuck him until he screams Chris's name, wants to make him come, wants Sebastian to slide into his lap and ride him like a cowboy. 

He knew it wouldn't take him long but his orgasm hits him like a Mack truck, so hard his vision whites out. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he comes, spills hot into his hand, shuddering through the waves of it. He's left breathless, fantasy still playing out in his head, Sebastian underneath him, coming apart in his arms.

There are several good reasons for not pursuing his co-worker. He even almost believes them.

*

Mackie and Grillo are a romance for the ages. 

As far as Chris can tell, they met at the all-cast-and-crew introduction party the night before filming began and fell madly in love. In the month since, Mackie has been named honorary Godfather of Grillo's children and has spent a holiday weekend with Grillo and his wife. They're nearly inseparable, and can often be found huddled together giggling like schoolgirls. 

They eat breakfast together in the hotel restaurant every day, and Chris will usually wave on his way out for his morning run. He's already got his hand in the air when he glances over one Friday, and is caught by surprise when he sees Mackie at his usual table with Scarlett instead of Grillo. Curious, Chris wanders over and slips into one of the empty seats at the table, frowning when neither of them even looks over at him.

"Morning!" he says. Mackie grunts and Scarlett makes a bleating sound like a sick and grumpy baby goat, curled over her coffee as though it's under threat. Chris looks at them sternly. "That's not very polite. Where's Grillo?"

"He's already on set," Mackie says unhappily.

"I'm his stand in," says Scarlett. She had to do a lot of yelling yesterday and her voice is raspy, and not so much in the sexy way. "Ant is going to take me paintballing in exchange for my company."

"Really?" Chris asks.

"Look, don't judge me, man. I've got needs." Mackie says, shaking his spoon at Chris. "I don't like to be alone."

"Yeah, but paintballing with her?" Chris gestures to Scarlett with his thumb. "Couldn't you have chosen something less dangerous?"

" _Dangerous_ ," Mackie scoffs.

Chris shrugs. Mackie has clearly never been on the other end of Scarlett's paintball gun. There's only one way he'll learn, Chris supposes. "All right, dude, it's your body."

Mackie glances between them, eyebrow raised. "It's my—It's _paintball_. How bad can it be?"

"Oh, honey," Scarlett says pityingly, and Chris outright laughs.

"What?" says Mackie. "What's funny?"

"You're darling," Scarlett tells him.

"Screw you both, man," Mackie mutters. He picks his phone up off the table and cradles it close, typing furiously.

Scarlett rolls her eyes, shooting Chris a commiserating smile. "They've been texting the whole time. He's not even here and I'm third-wheeling. May as well have stayed in bed. I don't have to be on set until eleven."

"Same," Chris says. Now that he's sat down he doesn't want to get up again, and the breakfast menu is looking particularly delicious this morning. He longingly reads the description of the Full English, sighs deeply.

"What's that look for?" Scarlett asks him.

Chris flickers his eyes up to her. "What look?"

"Like someone's just stolen your toy truck in the sandbox," says Scarlett.

Chris wrinkles his nose, gazes soulfully outside, where the sun is beginning to rise. "I'm tired of exercise."

Scarlett reaches over and pinches his cheek like he's a kid. "N'aw. Suck it up Ken Barbie. Six miles won't run themselves."

"Ken Barbie has brown hair," Chris tells her, disgruntled. Still, she ain't lyin'. He's about to force himself to go when Mackie suddenly makes a curious sound, taps Chris's shoulder and hands over his phone.

"Huh," says Chris. He shows Scarlett and her eyebrows lift with intrigue. The dining room is mostly deserted, so Chris dials, sets it to speaker. Grillo answers on the first ring in a loud whisper.

"Hello?"

Chris answers in kind. "Why are we whispering?"

"What?" Grillo whispers. "Hello?"

"What's going on?" whispers Mackie.

"Why are you whispering?" whispers Grillo. "I can't hear you."

"What?" Chris whispers.

"Stop whispering, I can't hear you!"

"You're all so stupid," says Scarlett.

"Why are _you_ whispering?" Mackie finally asks Grillo.

Grillo makes an impatient sound. "Because I'm in wardrobe, and—"

"We're supposed to whisper when we're in wardrobe?" Chris asks. He looks around at the others, in case he's missed something, but Scarlett and Mackie look equally bemused. 

"No, you giant ballsack," says Grillo. "I'm whispering because I'm cowered in the corner so no one else will hear me talking to you. I'm trying to hide my goddamn boner. Janet and Reid are outfitting The Winter Soldier."

"Oh, shit," says Mackie. He points at Chris. "Christopher, this is fucking serious."

"Sebastian?" Scarlett tries very hard not to sounds eager, but Chris has got her number. "How's he look?"

"Gorgeous," Grillo tells them, voice full of emotion, like he's really close to tears or been touched by the Holy Spirit or something. "He's so beautiful. I've never called another man beautiful before."

"Hey," says Mackie, jealous.

"You're spoken for," says Scarlett to Grillo.

"Wendy won't mind," Grillo says.

"She was talking about Mack," says Chris.

"Ant knows he's my baby." Mackie smiles happily at that, looking very smug as he kisses the tips of two fingers and presses them to the phone as Grillo carries on. "Doesn't make your boy here any less stunning. God, I just want to cradle him to my bosom and let him suckle at my teet."

Scarlett and Mackie make the exact same disgusted face at each other, and Chris says, "Dude."

"Evansy, man, you should see him. He's an Adonis. Costume is so hot. Lots of leather. And the arm, Jesus."

"What about it?" Chris asks. "Is it okay? Is it bothering him?"

Grillo sighs dreamily. "I spent fifty-four minutes this morning watching them smear lube all over his naked left side."

For a moment, Chris can only imagine it, Sebastian shirtless and being oiled down. He lets out an involuntary grunt. Like a pig. And honest-to-God pig grunt.

"How was it?" Scarlett says. She's much more awake now, wide-eyed and smiling excitedly. She flashes Chris a look. "This is so erotic."

"Good," Grillo says, still in a furtive whisper. "I was gonna record it but I couldn't get a video without being obvious. He made all these faces while they were forcing it on, just standing there in his underwear."

"What kind of underwear?" Mackie asks. It's such a good question that Chris feels faint. He clasps Mackie's arm, so grateful that Mackie thought of it, and Mackie mouths _I got your back_ and lays a hand on his forehead in benediction.

"American Apparel, like a goddamn frat boy."

"I'll buy him new ones," Chris says in a misty voice. "Grown up brand. Armani."

"Boxers or briefs?" Scarlett asks Grillo.

"Boxer-briefs. God, I'm objectifying him so hard right now. He has an ass like a peach. Nice big juicy peach ripe for the plucking."

"Ripe," Chris breathes in wonder.

Grillo suddenly makes a sound like he's choking. "Oh, hell, I think he heard me."

 _'What about plucking?'_ they hear Sebastian ask in the background. 

"What?" Grillo replies. "What are you talking about? Are you speaking Romanian? Say something in Romanian."

_'Why are you in the corner whispering about peaches?'_

"Shit," Grillo says into the phone, and hangs up.

Chris gets to see Sebastian in full costume when he walks into the cafeteria at the studio later that morning, where most of the guys playing the strike team and several crew members are milling about waiting for the set to be reset. Chris can usually find Sebastian in a crowd no matter what he's wearing, and it takes less that a second for his eyes to land on him all decked out in Winter Soldier. He damn near keels over at the sight. Sebastian seems to notice him at about the same time, because he waves, and quickly finishes up a conversation with whoever it is he's talking to.

"Hey!" he says cheerfully as he approaches, voice muffled behind his mask. He's bright-eyed and eager looking, goggles pushed onto his forehead and holding his hair back off his face; his smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He shows off his metal arm, flexing his fingers and bending at the elbow. A line of the little panels on it open and close in a domino effect when he pushes a button on the remote he's holding in his other hand. "Cool, right?"

Chris has no idea. He hasn't really been paying attention to much other than Sebastian all strapped up in leather. _I think I just came in my pants,_ he thinks. "I think I just came in my pants," he says. Shit. He tries to laugh it off but it comes out hysterical and frantic. "Because of how cool the arm is, I mean! Your arm made me come!" 

Sebastian's eyebrows threaten to disappear into his hairline. "Uh.

Chris backpedals as fast as he can, blushing fiercely. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant your arm is so cool it got me off."

"Oh," Sebastian says delicately. "Okay."

"I just really love technology," says Chris feebly.

"Right," says Sebastian.

"The arm is great, is what I'm trying to say," Chris explains. He makes an a-okay sign with his hand. "Neato."

Did he just say 'neato'? He's on a fucking roll. Luckily, one of the stylists rushes over with an aggrieved air about her, says "Basha, your hair!" and effectively takes his attention off Chris. He looks at her sheepishly, quickly tugging his goggles out of his hair and back over his eyes, apologizing profusely as the stylist leads him off. Chris waits until he's a few yards away before he squeezes his eyes closed and claps his hand over his face.

Next to him, Scarlett clears her throat. "Remember we had that talk about how you shouldn't say every thought out loud?" 

"I didn't mean to," Chris whispers, horrified.

"Y'know," says Mackie, "we've been friends for years, and of the two of us people still think it's you who's like, this smooth-talking ultra-suave Casanova. If they could only see you now."

"Shut up," Chris mumbles.

"If they could see the things I've seen, man," Mackie goes on dramatically, "then they'd know. I've got a picture of you passed out in my bathtub wearing an elephant thong that says _suck my trunk_."

"You two are entirely too comfortable with each other," Scarlett tells them.

"I didn't make him wear it!" Mackie argues. "His...Who were you dating then? Alison? She was a quality woman."

"It was a thong?" Chris asks, trying to remember. He'd been very drunk, well before Ali had convinced him to wear novelty underwear for a laugh.

"Yeah, here, I'll show you, I got it up right here."

Chris looks over at Mackie's phone interestedly. That's definitely him, passed out on his side in the bathtub of the apartment Mackie was living in back in twenty-eleven. That's his leg slung over the ledge, and that's his dick in the sleeve attached to the front of what is most definitely a thong with an elephant face on the front. "Huh."

"So very attracted to you right now," Scarlett deadpans.

"Hey, it's a great picture," says Mackie. "He looks so peaceful when he's sleeping."

Chris rolls his eyes and tries to snag the phone and turn it off before anyone else sees, but before he's able to grab it out of Mackie's hand, he hears his name from across the studio. He pops his head up like a meerkat. 

It's Sebastian, voice still muffled by the mask over his mouth and nose but his hair fixed and goggles in his hand, giving Chris an inquiring look. "See you later?"

Chris stomach flutters and he smiles so hard his cheeks hurt. "Yeah," he calls back. "Definitely."

"I feel like I'm watching an after school special," Scarlett tells him.

Chris wraps his arms around his middle and squeezes, still grinning dopily. "I hope our children get his smile."

"You can't even see his smile right now," says Scarlett.

"And his eyes," sighs Chris.

" _Ugh,_ " says Scarlett.

"Oh, by the way!" Sebastian calls once he's nearly to the door, turning around to walk backwards so Chris can see him point at his phone. "I have that same thong!"

The entire studio goes silent, and Sebastian disappears before Chris can even react. Scarlett lets out a loud bark of a laugh, and then covers her mouth. Everyone around them uncomfortably goes back to work, and Chris narrows his eyes at Mackie. "I hate you a lot."

"Look, man, I did it for you," says Mackie. "It ain't your mouth that's gonna get that kid, the way you're runnin' it. Now at least he knows you're hung like a gorilla. Got somethin' to offer him other than your sparkling conversation skills." Chris imagines Mackie's head bursting into flame, and Mackie puts his phone in his pocket and claps him on the shoulder. "You're welcome."

*

There's a big stray cat that hangs around the low cement wall out the back entrance of the studio. Its body is mostly black and its head mostly orange, so it's been dubbed Duracell.

"I mean, he didn't have to say anything," Chris tells him when he's out there two days later. "He'd already kinda left the conversation. He didn't have to say anything else. 'See you later'. He wants to see me, right? He likes hanging with me. And he said it like, after he got the picture from Mack. You know what that means."

Duracell must not get it, because he just yawns. Chris draws a triangle around his crotch with his hands. "I'm just saying, he might want a little of this, don'cha think?"

Duracell rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. Chris hums sadly. "I mean it doesn't matter. I really shouldn't like, pursue him. It'd be a bad idea." Duracell just purrs, so loudly he sounds like a lawn mower. Chris takes a seat on the wall next to him.

"I wonder if Basha purrs," he sighs, and absently rubs Duracell's fuzzy belly. The cat jerks and sinks his teeth into Chris's hand. Chris yelps and hops up, betrayed. He checks the little teeth marks in his skin with a sad frown, and then lifts his head and smirks filthily into the distance. "Or maybe he bites." There's no answer from the cat. Chris scrubs a hand over his face. "But like I said, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters."

When he looks down again, Duracell is gone. Chris can make out his fluffy butt and swishy tail rounding the corner of the building. "This is why I am the way I am!" Chris calls after him. "No one will _listen!_ "

He turns around to find Wubby, still in his civvies on his way inside, staring at him like he's worried for Chris's mental health. Chris clears his throat, picks up his shield and attaches it to the magnetic holster on his back. Wubby opens the door as he approaches and Chris nods a greeting, ignoring the way his cheeks flush. "Wubby."

"Smallass."

Wubby doesn't say anything else, but the smirk on his face is entirely too knowing for Chris's taste.

*

As the newest member of their merry band of misfit toys, Sebastian's first two weeks have been a free reign for the rest of the cast and crew to give him as much shit as possible. Thus far, this has included such gems as braiding pink ribbons into his hair while he's asleep, scrawling "The Wiener Soldier" in block letters over the door to his trailer and drawing penises all over the rest of it, editing his script to include lines from _Hot Tub Time Machine_ that he used during a run through, gluing his dressing room door shut, and an entire day wherein anyone who stumbled upon him with a drink in their hand would throw it in his face. He's taken his hazing like a fucking champ, but Chris figures all men have their breaking point.

On his third Tuesday, Sebastian – by virtue of all of his luggage being hidden in Scarlett's hotel room closet – is forced to come into work in a onesie Mackie bought from a street vendor by the grocery store. It's red and white striped, pirate-themed with treasure chests and skull-and-bones stamped across the arms and feet, and in blue calligraphy across the ass says "Plunder Me Booty."

Chris and Scarlett have, on Mackie's orders, taken an opportune break and mill around by the snack machines in the lobby, awaiting Sebastians arrival. He rushes in ten minutes late for a meeting, his hair still wet, and lobs empty Starbucks cup at them as he zooms past, footied feet slipping on the tile floor. After a few seconds, past the door he just rushed through, they distantly hear laughter, people doing pirate impressions, and an echo of Sebastian's "Fuck all of you guys!"

"Well," Chris says with a triumphant smile, offering Scarlett a fist to bump, which she does. "A job well done."

Word and pictures travel like wildfire around set, but Chris doesn't see Sebastian again until around one in the afternoon, when he's hanging around waiting for Grillo and Mackie to change so they can go to lunch. Grillo is dressed and Mackie is about to put on his shoes when Sebastian crashes into in the dressing room, launches himself at Mackie and tackles him to the floor. He immediately starts beating him with a big stuffed Captain America bear that usually sits in one of the conference rooms, and Mackie breaks into mad cackles, protecting his face with his arms.

"It's funny!" he cries, like that's a good argument. "It's funny, it's funny!"

"It's _not!_ The cab driver refused to let me in! I had to _walk_ here!" Sebastian says. Chris and Grillo are laughing so hard they're having to hold each other up and Mackie has tears of mirth on his face. Sebastian's still in the onesie, print on the ass stretched tight where he's bent over Mackie. The bear's cowl has come off its head and is flopping around wildly. "Some guy asked me how many doubloons it'd cost!"

"Oh my God, stop," Mackie gasps. "I'm gonna piss myself."

"You fuck nugget _bastard!_ ” Sebastian says, but he's laughing now too, and Mackie finally manages to knock his leg into the back of Sebastian's knees and flip them over. Sebastian hits the ground on his back with a _whump_ and Mackie wrestles the bear out of his hand, and then makes it kiss Sebastian on the nose.

"There, now," he says, situating himself on Sebastian's legs to pin him down. "So hostile, kid, Jesus. You could probably use a good ass plundering."

Sebastian raises his eyebrows. "You think I need your help with that?" He sniffs. "I have plenty of experience in having my ass plundered without advertisement, thank you very much."

Chris's brain short circuits. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that is thankfully muffled by Grillo's shoulder and forces his tongue to stay stuck to the roof of his mouth. If he opens his mouth right now he can't promise that he won't offer Sebastian free use of his dick any time he wants it, and Mackie looks like if Chris doesn't Mackie might do it for him. Luckily, they've got Grillo, who throws Sebastian a casual smile.

"Yeah?" he asks, sounding nothing more than mildly curious. "Never tried it myself, but I hear it's good. Men or women?"

"Doesn't matter." Sebastian shrugs. "I'm not picky."

Chris turns his face into Grillo's neck, suddenly light-headed. Bi. Sebastian's bi. Sebastian Stan is self-proclaimed bisexual, and if that isn't just fucking inconvenient to Chris's master plan of making it through filming without letting on that he wants to bone Sebastian into next year. Grillo pats his back and Chris tries not to scream like a frustrated kid.

"Hey, Basha," says Mackie, after a long moment of silence. "Hey."

"What?" Sebastian says warily. 

"You should say somethin' in Romanian."

Chris snorts, feels the rumble of Grillo's laughter under his cheek.

"Mm. Yeah, all right." Chris looks up, too curious for his own good. They've been popping the question on him at random intervals since he told them it was annoying but he's never actually _answered_ it.

"Oh, shit," Mackie says, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Just one sentence. Try and keep up, all right?"

"Aw, yeah, boy, I got this. Don't worry. Let's hear it."

"Okay, I'm gonna tell you an ancient Romanian proverb." Still on his back on the floor, Sebastian tilts his head to one side until his neck cracks, then the other. He clears his throat, opens his mouth to speak and, with a flourish, presents Mackie with both his middle fingers.

*

The night before their last day of shooting in California, Chris feels like he's about to crawl out of his skin. 

He woke up this morning with a low swell of anxiety simmering in the back of his mind for the first time in a long time, and it's been one hell of a day. He can't stop fidgeting, and he can't sleep, and there's nothing he wants to watch on TV. It's late and he has to work tomorrow but if he doesn't get out of this room he might actually go crazy, so he grabs his room key on his way out, walks to the Roof Access - Employees Only door he passes every day on his way to the elevators, and makes sure no one's there to catch him before he slips through.

When he makes it outside, he catches the unmistakable scent of weed in the air. Intrigued, he follows it around the entrance to find Sebastian, sprawled on his back right in the middle of the roof, spliff in hand. Chris breaks into a smile for the first time in what feels like days. His footsteps are loud on the dirty cement as he approaches, and Sebastian tilts his head back and looks at Chris upside down, mouth pulling into a surprised grin. Pleasantly surprised, even.

"Stargazing?" Chris asks, sitting down next to him, drawing his knees up a little and resting his arm around them loosely.

"Romantic, isn't it? Here," Sebastian offers Chris the joint and Chris takes it gratefully. He doesn't do this much, has always been more of a drinker than a smoker, but right now it seems like exactly what he needs. He takes a long drag, inhales until his ears are ringing and lets it out with a little cough. There's a crummy view of the city past the ledge and not really any visible in the sky, but the breeze is nice and he feels a lot more settled out here in the open. He passes the spliff back and watches Sebastian's Adam's apple rise and fall as he inhales.

"How long've you been out here?" Chris asks. Sebastian's eyes are hazy and his smile so big it makes Chris laugh. He's stoned as shit.

"I 'unno," Sebastian answers. "Time is it?"

Chris left his phone inside. He hasn't used his watch to actually tell the time in forever. "A little after eleven."

"Mm," says Sebastian. "A couple hours, then. This is my second."

Chris lets out a quiet laugh. Sebastian doesn't smoke much either, but when he does it's usually because he needs to get blitzed. Maybe it's just that kind of night. Chris's ass is sore on the concrete, so he lies down next to Sebastian and takes the joint back with a grateful sound when Sebastian hands it over. They pass it back and forth a few more times in comfortable silence, until Chris's lips are buzzing and he can feel his heartbeat in his tongue. "Fuck, been a long time since I've done this."

"Think my last time was with you and Hayley, after the premier, remember?"

"Yeah," Chris answers, voice slow. He blinks, which takes a lot longer than it should, and breathes out a laugh, feeling like the weed's hit him all at once. "This is good shit," he says. 

Sebastian hums an agreement, already watching Chris when Chris turns his head to see him properly. "You okay?"

Chris frowns a bit, rubs at his tired eyes. "'m fine, man." Sebastian lifts an eyebrow, clearly not believing him, so Chris knocks their shoulders together. "Hey, I'm not the one who came up here packin'. Are _you_ okay?"

Sebastian's lips quirk into a grin. "Long day. Couldn't sleep. Needed to like, get out of Bucky's head."

Sebastian is one of the hardest working people Chris has ever met, and he gives it his all, researched Bucky Barnes so thoroughly Chris doubts there are many others out there who know him as well. He chooses weird roles sometimes but he falls into every one that he's given, and the ones he connects with he puts his heart and soul into, lets himself get lost in. It takes a lot out of you, Chris knows from experience, especially with a character like Bucky where there are very few lines and so much has to be conveyed without words.

"Sucks, dude," he says, trying to pass the joint back to Sebastian so he can have the last hit, but Sebastian waves it off.

"You take it, you need it more. I just need to get out Bucky's head. You look like you need to get out of your own."

Chris laughs again, light headed, almost giggly. His exhaustion is more profound like this but also easier to handle. "I'm fine," he repeats. He takes the last hit, snubs out the spliff on the ground next to him. Sebastian was witness to the only panic attack Chris has ever had, after a long day of filming in freezing temperatures in the UK and a bad reaction to pseudoephedrine. It's not anywhere close to that tonight, but he appreciates the concern. "Just. Like you said, dude, long day."

"Somethin' happen?" Sebastian asks. His voice is soft and thick, calm. Being around him soothing.

"Not really," Chris answers. He's been looking at the sky but he turns his head to see Sebastian's face. "Had weird dreams, and Scarlett and I had to work in a really small space all day, and then had a call with my agent and found out my schedule is pretty much booked solid for the next eight months, which is great – like, I shouldn't be complaining about that. Just had to call my mom and tell her I have to cancel a trip home I'd planned, and she was, y'know. She was great, totally understanding, but disappointed. I fucking hate disappointing her."

Sebastian gives him a sympathetic look, catches Chris's arm gently and squeezes. "I'm sorry, dude. That's...God, look at that face. C'mere."

Chris lets out a little 'oof' when Sebastian rolls and comes to rest face down half on top of Chris, an arm slung around his middle. Chris automatically braces Sebastian with a hand on his back tilting his chin up accommodatingly so Sebastian can rest his head on Chris's shoulder. Chris's surprise gives way to fondness. He'd forgotten how much Sebastian loosens up when he's stoned, how tactile he really is when he's too wasted to be shy. Chris's head is spinning and he can't stop smiling, so he hides it in Sebastian's hair, breathes in the scent of his shampoo.

"Weirdo," Chris says, but he wraps his other arm around him too, chest tight like his heart is too big to fit inside it.

"You have this face," Sebastian tells him, rumble of his voice vibrating against Chris's ribs, "this need-a-hug face."

"That's always my face," Chris says. "I love hugs." He should really see to the complete lack of filter between his brain and his mouth. Sebastian just squeezes him tighter.

"'m sorry about your trip home," he murmurs. "And your shitty day."

Chris grins helplessly. "Thanks, Basha," he says softly. "I'm sorry Bucky is driving you to rooftops."

Sebastian laughs breathily. "S'okay. I like 'im. Hey, we're filming tomorrow."

"Hey, yeah we are," Chris says, stroking his hand up and down Sebastian's spine, listens to him sigh with pleasure, all but purring. Their first scene together is tomorrow. Not even a full scene, just a part of the helicarrier sequence that the Russos wanted done in the part of the studio they have access to now that they won't when they come back in a month and a half to finish.

"Will be good," Sebastian says, sounding sleepy. "No mask."

Chris hums an agreement, closing his eyes to block out the way the sky is spinning above him. He's excited. It's one of the only things that's kept him sane all week. Well before Chris fell head over ass in love with him, he and Sebastian had a nearly palpable on screen chemistry. It'll be nice to step into that again. "Missed workin' with you," he says. "Missed you."

Chris is so wrecked, feels like he's miles away from everything. The ground isn't even a little comfortable and he has an awful taste in his mouth from the weed but he doesn't want to move at all. Sebastian rests his forehead against Chris's jaw, exhales a slow breath, warm on Chris's neck. He rests his fingers in the gaps between Chris's ribs. "Missed you, too."

*

Chris is so deeply immersed in Steve Rogers that he can almost feel the pain in his gut from the gunshot wounds, the ache in his bones from seventy some-odd years of fighting the same goddamn war. He can feel Steve's exhaustion, his pain. He can feel the gnawing, precarious hope caught in Steve's chest because his best friend is right there, alive, and Steve is willing to die if it means saving him. Chris can feel the anguished guilt threatening to overwhelm Steve because the flicker behind those furious blue eyes is so hurt, and so untrusting, and afraid, and he could write fucking poetry dedicated to how gifted an actor Sebastian Stan is.

Chris holds his stomach as he crouches down, winches because it would hurt, three bullets in the gut. Sebastian makes Bucky's expression go pinched, confused and panicked as Chris gets closer. Chris is in a different costume for this part and it's even tighter than the last across his chest and stomach and legs, constricting enough that his panting for breath isn't entirely fake. He's sweating, adrenaline thrumming in his veins. He bends at the waist, gets his arms under the scaffolding, ready to use every ounce of the strength Steve has left to lift it. He takes a deep breath.

And promptly chokes on it when Mackie shouts from across the studio. "Hey Evans! Do you want some fries with those buns?!"

Chris and Sebastian glance at each other, both frozen for barely a beat before Bucky's tortured expression falters into a smile and then just dissolves. Sebastian covers his face with his metal hand, laughing guilelessly, so unbelievably fucking adorable it hurts to look at him. Chris just wants to keep him laughing like this all the time. He makes a show of groaning and hanging his head, his "You're an asshole, Mackie!" ringing through the studio.

"All right, all right," one of the Russo's eventually shouts above all the laughter. "Reset! And someone please gag Anthony!"

After they wrap for the day, there's a few hours to kill before the goodbye party that's been planned for the crew and cast who won't be traveling with them and Chris doesn't have anything planned, so after he takes the opportunity to catch a nap on the couch in his trailer and then make an attempt at clearing out his personal stuff. There's not much, a lot of random crap he doesn't need but will keep anyway for the memories. He's delighted when inside the reclining mechanism of the couch he finds the phone he'd sworn was stolen at a bar a week ago. He'd been bummed as hell thinking he'd lost his camera roll.

He's sitting on the couch looking through pictures of the paintball date with Scarlett (unscathed) and Mackie (drenched in bright orange and green) when someone knocks on his door. He calls for whoever it is to come in, and Sebastian pushes the door open a bit and pops his head in. Chris grins, pleasantly surprised. "What's up, dude?"

Sebastian looks sheepish. "Hey. You busy?"

"Nope." He gestures for Sebastian to come in all the way. "Welcome to Chez Evans."

Sebastian closes the door behind him. He's in jeans and shoes, but shirtless with Bucky's metal arm still on. Chris stares unashamedly at his abs for a long time before he remembers to look at his face. Sebastian pushes a few strands of loose hair behind his ear. "Sure you don't mind?"

"Promise. You're always welcome, don't even need to ask," says Chris. He drops his phone into the open duffle on the floor in front of him and gestures to Sebastian's arm. "You gonna just start wearing that all the time now?"

"Might make life a lot easier," Sebastian grumbles, frowning at it. "I've been trying to get it off for almost an hour."

"An hour?" Chris pats the empty seat on the couch and turns a bit to face him once Sebastian sits down. From what Chris understands, the removal of the arm is a tug-and-pull situation. It's in three pieces, one that attaches from shoulder to a few inches above his elbow, one to cover the joint, and then the gauntlet over the forearm and hand. The hand bit is a little more malleable so Sebastian can use his fingers, but it attaches at the wrist very tightly. Chris knows this because he's more than once found himself staring hungrily at the red imprints left behind, imagining all sorts of other scenarios that might leave Sebastian wearing those marks around his wrists and nothing else. 

"Don't you have a whole team of people whose job it is to get this off?" he asks, taking Sebastian arm by the elbow gently.

"I think they're mostly around to make sure I don't break it," says Sebastian with a grin, letting Chris rotate his arm around. "But nah, really, it's usually just Matt in wardrobe who can get it off pretty easily but he had a family emergency and had to leave and he was the only one still around."

Chris stares at him. "And you've been trying to get it off yourself for an entire hour?"

Sebastian flushes. "I'm a little bit stubborn."

Chris snorts. Sebastian's "little bit" of stubbornness once kept Chris, Hugo Weaving, and Toby Jones in a studio with impossibly hot pyrotechnics for over an hour after scheduled for their middle of the night shoot because he "wasn't getting Bucky's face right". "You?" Chris gasps. " _No._ "

"Fuck off. I remembered you'd said something about cleaning up, I was hoping you'd still be here," Sebastian offers a breath-taking smile that leaves Chris momentarily stunned. "Now if it breaks it's your fault."

Chris makes a face. "Everyone thinks you're so nice."

"I am nice," says Sebastian. "Nicest boy in the whole world."

"An absolute sweetheart," Chris says wryly. "So how're we doing this? Is it really possible to break it? Because if it is I probably will."

Sebastian stands up, and before Chris can ask why he's sinking onto the floor and positioning himself right in front of Chris, who spreads his legs automatically to accommodate. He blinks, chest tight and wide-eyed.

"Uh," says Chris. He is a creature of sparkling wit and competence.

"It'll be easier like this, trust me," Sebastian explains. "For leverage. And safety. First time we took it off I knocked over a table from the recoil. Had a bruise the size of Texas on my ass."

Chris would have loved to have seen that. Taken a picture of it. Touched it in a soothing manner. Kissed it better. "Leverage," he says, and when he can't think of anything else, he gives Sebastian a thumbs up like a moron. "So I just like, pull?"

Sebastian nods, sitting back on his heels "Yup."

When he proffers his arm, Chris cups the wrist delicately in his palm. Sebastian must mistake his tenderness for reluctance, because he says, "I was just kidding about the breaking it thing. It really won't break."

"I have a long history of accidentally breaking things that aren't supposed to be breakable," Chris says doubtfully. Still, he gets a solid grip with both hands on Sebastian's wrist and forearm and centers his balance. "Ready?"

The first tug doesn't work. The second doesn't either.

"We're not very good at this," says Chris.

"Well it's our first time," says Sebastian.

"Here, maybe if you—"

"Yeah, and I'll—shit, that didn't—"

"Move your leg like, kick off the couch and I'll—like this."

"Yeah, yeah I think that's no no no no shit!"

"I thought you said I couldn't break it!"

They try for nearly half an hour, and by the time they give it up they're both breathless from laughing, Chris doubled over on the couch and Sebastian sprawled on his back on the floor. The gauntlet part of the arm hasn't moved an inch. 

"So much for super soldier strength," Chris mutters once he catches his breath, still chuckling and rubbing his eyes.

"I figured you'd be used to this type of thing," says Sebastian. "You've got to like, peel out of that suit every day."

"I could never in a million years get that off myself, man," says Chris.

"Do they sew you in like they did Olivia Newton John in _Grease_?" asks Sebastian.

"They should, would be a lot easier. I can't get into it on my own, either. Tried once and nearly threw my back out."

Sebastian pushes his bottom lip out in a mocking pout. Chris makes like he's going to kick him in the nads and he laughs, catches Chris's ankle and sticks his tongue out at the grumpy look Chris gives him. "C'mon, Christopher," he sing-songs. "Turn that frown upside down."

"You're actually a giant dork," Chris tells him.

Sebastian sniffs. "I'm brooding and mysterious."

"Nerdy and lame," says Chris. Sebastian bites his lip on a smile. He looks damn good on his back, smiling up at Chris like that, shirtless and red-cheeked. Chris rolls his shoulders, forces all (most; well a few, anyway) impure thoughts out of his head. Sebastian tilts his head a bit on the floor, regards Chris curiously.

"You feeling any better?" he asks, rubbing his thumb in a slow circle over the knot on Chris's ankle. "Since last night?"

Chris nods, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"Yup," says Sebastian, popping the 'p'. "Got a good night's sleep."

They'd stayed curled up together on the roof until after three in the morning, when both of them had to be in to work at seven. Chris is running on about three hours of sleep, but he feels like some of the weight he's been carrying on his shoulders is gone, feels refreshed in a way he absolutely shouldn't. The memory of Sebastian pressed all along his side has had him smiling all day long.

He's sure he's got a stupid lovesick look on his face, so he coughs to clear his throat and extracts his leg from Sebastian's grip and sits up from where's slumped against the back of the couch. 

"All right, sweetheart, ready for round two?" he asks, offering a hand up.

"Sweetheart," says Sebastian, amused, and takes it. He gets back to his knees in front of Chris.

"Okay," says Chris, "gimme your arm. On three. One, two..."

On three, Chris gives an almighty heave and the gauntlet gives just a little. Sebastian tumbles forward with a surprised yelp, knees slipping on the carpet underneath him. He catches himself with a hand on Chris's chest and Chris steadies him with his free arm around the waist, and Sebastian's left arm is caught between them, Chris's hand still curled around the wrist.

"Whoa, there, cowboy," Chris says. "Don't fall."

"You're stronger than you look," says Sebastian, cheeks flushed red.

Chris slides his hand up Sebastian's back, cups the nape of his neck, fingers the downy soft hair there. "I look pretty strong."

"Yeah," Sebastian murmurs. "Yeah you do."

He's so close that Chris can smell his subtle cologne, see the freckles on his cheeks and nose. Sebastian's pink lips part and Chris swallows hard, heart racing, world narrowed down to the inches of space between them. Sebastian swallows, wets his lips, tips his head a little to the side, his eyes on Chris's mouth. Chris has to kiss him, can't not, even if it might ruin everything. They've always had chemistry but right now it feels like there's electricity under Chris's skin. He makes a soft sound in his throat, dips his head and pulls Sebastian in a bit closer by the wrist. That's all it takes for the gauntlet come free with a sudden jerk and smash directly into Chris's face.

Chris lets out a little cry and pulls away, eyes watering. He covers his throbbing nose with his free hand and groans, mortified to realize it's bleeding.

"Oh, God, Chris, shit are you—Oh my God are you bleeding?" Sebastian's saying. "No don't tilt your head back, you're not supposed to do that. Hang on."

Chris hears him get up, and then the sound of water running in the small bathroom. He's blushing so fiercely that his cheeks hurt. But not as much as his nose. Because he just _punched himself in the face_. He is just the most suave jackass to ever suave.

Sebastian comes back with a wet washcloth, kneeling down in front of him again. "Here ya go, big guy." He takes Chris's wrist and tugs his hand out of the way, dabs at his nose with the warm washcloth, cupping Chris's jaw in his other hand to hold him still. "Shit, you're a mess," he murmurs, and if he sounds a little amused Chris can't blame him; his smile is too sweet. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Chris asks, confused.

"Kinda my fault, breakin' Captain America's nose."

Chris tugs on a few strands of Sebastian's. "Hey now, my nose isn't broken. Let's not get carried away."

Sebastian cracks a grin, and doesn't stop Chris from idly braiding a plait into his hair while he mops Chris's face up. After another minute, he eases the pressure of the washcloth on Chris's nose, carefully wipes it across Chris's upper lip a few times to get the dried blood off. "I think it's stopped bleeding. You okay? Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine. Doesn't hurt anymore. Are _you_ okay?" Chris asks him.

Sebastian lifts his eyebrows, incredulous. "I'm fine, dude. I'm not the one who just punched myself in the face with someone else's arm.”

Chris groans. "What are the chances of no one else finding out about this?"

"Oh, right about a snowball's in Hell, I'd wager," says Sebastian with a wink. 

"Asshole," says Chris.

Sebastian grins, but it tapers away to a soft sort of expression that Chris can't read. His hand is still on Chris's jaw, and Chris doesn't think he imagines the soft sweep of his thumb over the sensitive skin just in front of Chris's ear before he pulls it away. Chris misses the warmth immediately. Sebastian opens his mouth like he wants to say something, and then closes it again, huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes, busies himself with folding the washcloth neatly. Chris would pay a fortune to be able to hear whatever internal monologue is going on in Sebastian's head right now.

Finally, Sebastian exhales a deep breath, drops the washcloth on the table next to the couch next to the gauntlet, and gestures to his left arm. "Welp, that's one down. Two to go." He looks up at Chris through his eyelashes. "You wanna borrow my mask?"

His grin is playful, an impish look in his eye. Chris tells him fuck off, laughing, hope swelling up in his chest. He may have fucked up his chances for tonight, but they've got the better part of another two months of filming left together. If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. Hopefully, next time, without the bloody nose.

**_TBC_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on [Tumblr](http://checkthemargins.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, it fought me at every turn and I'm afraid it's not nearly as entertaining as the last two. Thanks to everyone who had to listen to me whine about it for two months.

**_three_ **

The flight from LAX to Dulles is packed, even at ass early in the morning and in first class. Chris can never sleep on planes, so he tried to crash in the late afternoon the night before, but only managed a few hours of restless sleep before he had to haul himself out of bed to make the eleven forty-five redeye. He hardly remembers getting up and dressed, arriving at the airport or boarding the plane, can only hope that he didn't leave anything behind at the hotel as he checked out, zombie-like at the front desk.

Now that they're in the air he's wide awake, as per usual, with a mug of surprisingly delicious airline coffee and Mackie passed out and puffing in the seat next to him. Most of his actor friends hate flying, especially commercial, but Chris usually enjoys it; there's always a lot to see on a plane. This early, though, nearly everyone is asleep and the cabin is dark, so his people watching is limited to Sebastian and Grillo in three rows ahead and across the aisle, who have the reading lights above their seats turned on.

Sebastian's in the aisle seat and in Chris's direct line of sight and he can't make out much of Grillo, but he can hear them. They've been talking quietly for the full hour and a half they've been in the air, voices low so he can't understand what they're saying but can catch the inflection and there's a lot of muffled laughter. They're sort of huddled together, leaning forward to look at the screen of an iPad so Chris can see the side of Grillo's face and only the back of Sebastian's head. Whatever Grillo's saying has him making a huge sweeping gesture with his hand in the air before he cups the back of Sebastian's head and knocks their foreheads together gently and recoil in the gentlest headbutt Chris has ever seen.

Sebastian covers his mouth to hide his giggling (fucking adorable) and Grillo laughs, grabs Sebastian's wrist momentarily in a way that seems a bit too intimate for Chris's liking, and gestures to the iPad again. Chris narrows his eyes curiously, trying to lean forward and see what they're looking at. When Mackie suddenly jerks awake, jarring both their seats, Chris jumps and looks around at him. Mackie's wide-eyed, a stunned-stupid expression on his face. Chris fights a smile.

"Mack?" Chris asks.

Mackie blinks at him, and then turns his head into his shoulder and sneezes. He flips Chris off when Chris laughs and rubs his hands over his thighs, slumping back into his seat. "Weird dream, man. I get the weirdest dreams on flights. Always happens. Like how your ears always pop, y'know? Except it's dreams."

"Sure," says Chris. It's usually a lot easier to just agree with whatever fool thing Mackie's saying.  
Mackie snorts and snags Chris's coffee, inhales the scent deeply and then takes a sip, gaze wandering over the rest of the cabin until his eyebrows lift. Chris follows his line of sight to Sebastian, who's smiling and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, bathed in the soft glow of the only light in the cabin.

"Jesus," says Mackie. "Is that what the inside of your head looks like?"

"Shut up," says Chris.

"How are they even awake, man," Mackie yawns.

Chris shrugs. "They've been up talking the whole time."

Sebastian leans in close to Grillo, so close he's out of sight, and their quiet laughter carries. A weird feeling coils unpleasantly in Chris's stomach and he side-eyes Mackie, wondering how to go about grilling him discreetly. "Hey, so uh, like. He and Grillo have been pretty tight lately, ya think?"

Mackie sees directly through him . "Feelin' a little jealous, baby?"

Chris flushes. " _No_."

"Liar, liar," says Mackie, tilting his head from one side to the other on each word. "Big fat Captain America pants on fire."

Chris glares and tries to punish Mackie by taking his coffee back. When Mackie refuses, they end up in a ridiculous scuffle over the mug, laughing in a loud whisper until a disgruntled businessman in the seat in front of Chris twists grumpily around to glare at them. Chris apologizes sheepishly and Mackie pointedly slurps the rest of his coffee down. Chris makes a face, and when he looks back over at Grillo and Sebastian again, Sebastian's got his headphones on and is looking sleepily out the window across the aisle.

"Basha's just like, got a little crush, y'know? Like a celebrity crush," says Mackie. "Grillo's got no intentions toward your boy."

Chris knows that. It's just hard watching someone else get so much of Sebastian's attention. There's no way to say that without sounding like a brat, though.

"Best not," says Chris. "I'd hate to have to go all Captain America on his ass."

"And what, bake him a cherry pie and give him a stern talking to?"

Mackie's an asshole. Chris smacks him in the belly with the back of his hand and Mackie grunts, but doesn't retaliate. He falls back to sleep in seconds, slumped over and drooling on Chris's shoulder. Chris takes a deep breath, rubs at his eyes and yawns until his jaw pops. When his vision clears he catches Sebastian's eyes on him. He looks so soft with his sleepy eyes, and the desire to card his fingers through Sebastian's rumpled hair is so intense that Chris has to clench his hands into fists. Sebastian's mouth quirks into a smile and he lifts his hand, gives Chris a ridiculous little wave. Chris smiles helplessly and waves back, tight feeling in his stomach retreating a bit.

*

The Captain America Smithsonian exhibit was built at the National Air and Space Museum, and it looks so incredible that Chris is nervous he might break something and ruin all the hard work that clearly went into putting it together, so he's trying to stay as unobtrusive as possible while Joe and the set designer and the crew perfect the angles and lighting.

They landed at seven in the morning, and Chris was put into a car that made a mad dash to location, because they only have a two hour window to wrap filming before the museum opens. It's just him and about forty-five extras, eleven of which are kids. The one he'll be shooting a scene with is Cullum, who is ten and far more chill and savvy than Chris can ever remember being as a kid. Or than he is right now as an adult.

"This whole scene is a little douchey, isn't it?" he asks while they're standing around waiting to start. "I mean, going to see an exhibit about yourself?"

Chris frowns at him. "Hey, now, skippy. You lay off Cap. He's soul searching. _Searching his soul._ Looking into his past. He's trying to figure himself out, y'know? He's still grieving."

"He could use Google," says Cullum. He holds his hands up in defiant surrender at the look Chris gives him. "I'm just saying."

"Geeze, dude," Chris says, maybe suddenly a little less comfortable standing in a room full of thirty foot posters of himself. "You'd think a guy could enjoy a healthy ego boost without being judged."

Cullum rolls his eyes and Chris sticks out his tongue, and then Cullum kicks at Chris's shoe, and when Chris doesn't react he does it again, harder. Chris raises an eyebrow. "You sure you wanna start somethin', kid? You sure that's where you want this to go?"

Cullum offers a mutinous smile and prods Chris hard right in the middle of the stomach Chris lets out a loud roar, tosses Cullum over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and runs around the room with him for a bit. The younger kids squeal delightedly, a few chasing after them, and Cullum beat on Chris's back, laughing through demands to be set down.

Chris is winded and Ariel from wardrobe is narrowing her eyes at him dangerously when he sets Cullum down again. Cullum straightens his shirt and quickly schools his face from an open smile into something more along the lines of too cool for school. He glances at someone past Chris a little too quickly. Chris looks around to see a girl with red hair and freckles and a wry smile on her face as she regards Cullum.

"Oh, I see how it is," Chris says, turning back around. "You got someone you're trying to impress."

Cullum scoffs. "What? Shut up. I've already impressed her. We're going out for lunch after this."

Damn, boy moves fast. It's only been an hour. "Seriously? Didn't you guys just meet this morning?"

"Yeah."

"And you've already asked her on a date?"

"Um, _yeah_ ," says Cullum, as though Chris is particularly dense. Chris let's that slide, too curious for his own good.

"How'd you do it? Just 'Hey sweet thang, the name's Cullum. You. Me. Lunch.'?"

"I totally did not do that," says Cullum, looking horrified at the thought. "Who would do that? We were talking and then we had to go to different marks, and I said 'Do you wanna get something to eat later?'

"You just said that?" Chris asks, a little over-intense, if he's honest. "Just out loud like that? Right to her?"

"Uh, yeah," says Cullum, clearly under the impression that Chris is a whole bag of nuts. "It's not a big deal."

"And now you've got a date?" Chris presses, rapt. "Just like that? You're taking her to lunch."

"Well, our moms are going too," says Cullum.

"Sure, yeah," Chris says. He looks back at the girl to see if she's still watching, because he wants to know if she looks at Cullum as much as Cullum looks at her, for research purposes. He grunts when Cullum pinches him hard in the arm.

"Dude don't _look at her!_ " Cullum hisses.

"Hey, I'm being totally casual," says Chris. He ignores Cullum's incredulous look and grins. "Nice one, though, man."

"Right?" Cullum says, grinning. Chris snorts and ruffles his hair until he squawks and wrenches away to fix it. Chris watches him, and watches the girl watch him, and then lets out a sigh and hunkers down to sit against the wall. Cullum does the same, eyeing Chris with level concern. "You okay?"

"I'm cool, yeah," says Chris. "I just, like. I got someone I like, too."

"So ask her out," says Cullum. Chris's gaze flickers to the giant monument dedicated to Bucky a few feet away, but he doesn't correct him.

"It's not that easy, man. It's complicated."

"Whatever," says Cullum. "You're just a pussy."

Chris gives an outraged cry and they're called to start filming before he can think up a retort, so he ends up shouting, "I'm not a pussy!" to Cullum's retreating back as he walks to his mark and scandalizing half the room. Cullum doesn't even bother to turn around.

"Just ask her out!"

*

Chris doesn't.

Ask Sebastian out, that is. Not over the first two days they're in town, at least, and Sebastian is only there for four. To be fair, there really hasn't been that much time.

DC is hot. Obnoxious, sweltering, wet heat that makes Chris's lungs ache. It's bad enough sitting on his balcony in his underwear in the early morning, absolutely unbearable when he's wearing thirty pounds of Captain America neoprene and canvas. Today, Steve Rogers is in khakis, a t-shirt, and a jacket, which is a nice in-between, but Chris would give anything to strip down and dive into the rooftop pool he can see on top of a hotel five buildings away. He's sweating and uncomfortable and there are visible heatwaves rising off the concrete. It's _fucking hot_. Like the fires of Mordor.

"Mt. Doom," Mackie corrects. They're on a rooftop set with Scarlett and Max Hernandez, who plays Sitwell, waiting for the cameras to be set up before they shoot. Chris met Max during read-throughs only a few days ago, so Chris doesn't know him very well, but he likes him. Max is really nice, and funny, and looks super nerdy in Sitwell's glasses. He's in a full suit, shiny black shoes and everything, and looks just as miserable as Chris feels (impossible, no one can be more miserable than Chris is).

"Shut up, nerdface. Mt. Doom is _in_ Mordor," Chris tells Mackie without looking at him. Max snorts a laugh. The beads of sweat on his shiny head are oddly fascinating. He wipes them away with a handkerchief, which effectively breaks Chris's reverie, and Chris gazes off into the distance, disconsolate. "I miss Sebastian."

"He hasn't left yet," Scarlett points out.

"Your mom hasn't left yet," says Chris. Max offers Chris a fist to bump. Chris does, in a sad sort of way. Sebastian wraps up tomorrow afternoon and won't be back until Cleveland in two weeks.

"He doesn't leave until Thursday morning," says Scarlett.

"Where's he going, anyway?" Mackie asks. "He should just stick around." He's got his Falcon gear on, and keeps shifting around with the weight of it. It's actually pretty heavy. Chris is really glad that he doesn't have to wear it.

"LA. He has meetings, or something," says Max. "I met him yesterday. He's nice. His hair was doing a thing—" He makes a claw-like hand motion over the top of his head. "Like a cockatiel. It was funny. What is he, like fifteen?"

"Fif-What? How dare—He is _twenty-nine_ ," Chris splutters, furious. "You take that back!"

Max cracks a grin. "I'm just givin' you a hard time, man. You both look like babies."

"He's a _Leo_ ," Chris says aggressively. Mackie pats his back.

"S'fine, man, he knows. It's okay. Here, are you hungry? I have crackers." Chris opens up to accept one when Mackie holds it to his mouth, because he's hungry, but he keeps his eyes narrowed on Max while he chews. 

"Did he just feed you?" Max asks delicately.

Mackie gets onto his toes and pulls Chris down until he's bent awkwardly with his head cradled to Mackie's chest so he can stroke Chris's head. "It's okay," Mackie coos at Chris. "Mama Falcon's got you."

"Where did you even get crackers?" Scarlett asks. Mackie doesn't answer, too busy kissing the top of Chris's head over and over, and she sighs, giving Max an apologetic look. "I'd reassure you that they're not usually like this, but I'd be lying."

"Hm," says Max. Chris is still glaring at him. Max offers a tentative smile. "I think it's cool. That, y'know. Sebastian's a Leo. That's really cool."

Chris straightens up with a happy chirp. "It's _so_ cool. I'm a Gemini."

"That's like, super compatible," says Max.

Chris beams.

*

Tuesday is the hottest it's been in the city all year. Luckily, Chris gets to spend most of it inside with Sam and Emily in an air conditioned staged apartment. He doesn't have to go outside until after nine, and even though the sun being down hasn't made much of a difference in the heat, he's in Steve's civvies again instead of the Cap costume, and that makes a huge difference.

Sebastian, on the other hand, must be fucking miserable, in full Winter Soldier gear, heavy black makeup caked around his eyes, hair down and mask on, arm cased in metal and the rest of his body in heavy leather. He was already breathing like Darth Vader when Chris arrived, and that was _before_ they spent three hours running across rooftops. Even Chris feels light headed by the time they finish.

As soon as they wrap for the night, Sebastian drops to his knees like his strings have been cut, and then lies down, sprawled out on the pavement on his front, groaning dramatically. He pulls the glove off his good hand and then tugs the mask away with fumbling fingers, panting and sweaty. Chris crouches down next to him and pushes Sebastian's damp hair off his face tenderly, smearing the already messy black makeup around the eyes. "You okay there, sunshine?"

He smiles gratefully at a passing PA, who hands Chris two bottles of water. "Thank you!" Sebastian croaks like a wounded frog. The PA grins and hurries off to help break down the set and Chris helps Sebastian sit up. Sebastian grins his thanks, downs half his bottle of water, and starts tugging the straps of his costume loose with one hand until the chest armor opens up. He's wearing a white t-shirt underneath that's nearly transparent and sticking to his skin, which is unfathomably hot, and as the breeze picks up, he lets out a decidedly filthy moan.

"Dude," Chris protests, like he wouldn't pay actual money to hear that sound again. "Inappropriate."

"Are you kidding?" Sebastian rasps. He sets his empty water bottle down and flops onto his back, spreading his arms out, looking sated. " Air is the best. It feels so good. Do you feel that breeze? Fuckin' orgasmic."

Chris bites his lip. Technically Sebastian is still in like six layers of clothes, but it's easy to imagine him sprawled out loose like this wearing nothing but that satisfied grin. When Chris is too lost in the fantasy to say anything for a while, Sebastian frowns up at him, eyebrows drawn together. "I didn't really like, come," he says. "I was just kidding. About the orgasm thing. Because you said I sounded inappropriate. It was just a joke."

Chris lets out a startled laugh. "Yeah I got that."

"I mean, I don't usually do that in my pants," he gives Chris a pointed look. "Like some people I know."

"Fuck off, asshole," Chris says, making a face. "I was complimenting your arm."

Sebastian shrugs. 

"Yeah, well. I guess that doesn't get me off like it does some people." Chris lifts an eyebrow, laugh caught on the tip of his tongue as Sebastian's eyes go wide and he backtracks. "No, I mean, it gets _me_ off. But not, y'know, in...ah, fuck."

"Uh huh," says Chris. "Not so easy, is it? Try to make a joke and it all goes wrong, doesn't it?"

Sebastian covers his eyes with his hand, coughing out a little laugh. "I think I'm just gonna stop talking, now."

He's funny, and so gorgeous even when he's gross and sweaty and smells funky, and he's at least as much of a goober as Chris is, and Chris just likes him a whole lot. "Hey, goober."

Sebastian lifts his hand away from his face so he can look at Chris with raised eyebrows. "Goober? Like the candy?"

Chris tilts his head. "No one's ever called you a goober before?"

"I'm from Romania," says Sebastian. "I don't understand American."

Chris laughs, tugs affectionately on a long strand of dark hair. "C'mon, we should go. You need a shower."

"I smell amazing," says Sebastian immediately, nose in the air as he sits up. Chris stands and gives him a hand up. Sebastian looks down at himself once he's standing, sniffs and then makes a face and looks at Chris again, apologetic and worried-like. "Is it really that bad?"

 _Yes._ "No. You smell awesome," Chris tells him earnestly. Sebastian quirks an eyebrow and Chris amends. "Well like, if by 'awesome' you mean rank from running around all day in ninety degree weather wearing a leather suit, then you smell totally awesome."

Sebastian grins. Chris grins back. It's a moment.

An hour later at the hotel, clean and fresh, little Cullum's advice is ringing in Chris's ears. He practices a thousand different ways to ask Sebastian out in his head, but can't get any of them out, and when the elevator doors open all he says is, "Have a good night, man."

Chris walks four steps down the hall, and then three steps back, turns and sees Sebastian's back and gorgeous ass and he _wants_ , but the nerves hit him again and he turns back toward his room. He does it three more times, sweat gathering at his temples and he's been through a lot of shit in his life so _why is this so hard?_

The last time he turns around, Sebastian is standing still at the end of the hall with his wallet out, searching through it with a scowl on his face. Chris swallows hard and closes the distance between them at a jog. He catches up just as Sebastian finds his key card and brandishes it with a triumphant sound. Chris's knees go a little weak.

"It was where I put it so I wouldn't forget where it was," Sebastian tells Chris, smug like he hasn't just had to spend five minutes looking for it anyway. He's precious. He's wonderful. Chris just really fucking likes him.

"Good," he says. "Hey, when's your flight Thursday?"

"Eight in the morning," says Sebastian, twirling the card between his fingers the way he does The Winter Soldier's knife. "Why?"

Chris takes a deep breath and holds it until he's light headed, screwing up the courage before he forces the words out. "D'you wanna grab dinner or something? Tomorrow night? Like a goodbye thing."

Sebastian doesn't even hesitate, grinning broadly. "Oh, yeah, man, that'd be great!" He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. "You don't have to, though. I mean it's not really goodbye - I'll see you guys in Cleveland. But I'm not gonna turn down a night out if you're up for it."

He looks really pleased. Like, really pleased. Chris's stomach is tight and fluttering and he might throw up. "Great," he says, wincing at how breathless it comes out. He rubs the back of his head ruefully and clears his throat. "Like, uh, that trendy place? 1789?"

"Sounds good, man. Anywhere's great. I'm easy," says Sebastian, carding his fingers through his damp hair. "I've got a meeting right after I finish up around six, but I can get there by like eight?"

"Eight," Chris agrees. Sebastian could have said four in the morning and Chris would agree without a thought.

He manages to keep the lovesick smile off his face until he gets to his room, but then all bets are off. He toes off his shoes and then rolls around on the bed grinning madly into his pillow, and after he's collected himself opens his laptop. He wants to text Scarlett but he doesn't want to jinx it yet—she's too close to the situation—and he wants to Tweet the world all about it, but manfully resists the urge, and instead Tweets _Things are looking up! Easier to see space that way._

Within two minutes he receives an @ from his brother calling him a loser and an email from Hemsworth, who—ever since Chris let slip that he thinks Thor is the hottest Avenger—has taken it upon himself to send Chris a daily email with a picture of himself attached that he found off Google Images. If he has time, he adds commentary, which thus far has included such gems as _Here is one of me looking pensive,_ and _My dong looks profound in this one I thought you might like that._

Today, it's one of him looking debonair and slightly nefarious in front of a gradient backdrop. Underneath it says _Why are you Tweeting lame shit?_

 _I've got a date tomorrow!_ Chris replies.

Hemsworth must be online still, because he comes back almost immediately with, _Here this should help_ and a picture of himself shirtless and wet. Chris closes his laptop and goes to bed.

Wednesday is a hectic day of filming a bunch of little scenes, so there are a lot of wardrobe changes and Steve's headspace is very different in each scene, and there are huge crowds of people watching for most of the day because they're in highly touristy areas. It's stressful as hell, but Chris is too nervous and excited to let any negative feeling touch him at all, even when Mackie grumpily told him to go fuck himself when Chris was smiling and pumped at five in the morning after running for over an hour.

He's cut loose at five and he spends the ride back to the hotel rereading the text he got from Sebastian saying that he made reservations for them for five after eight, like he was thinking about it when he got up this morning, like he's looking forward to it just as much as Chris is. He takes a long shower, and spends an indeterminable amount of time choosing what to wear, since he didn't really bring much with him to DC beyond the basics. He settles on jeans and brown boots and a collared shirt that fits tight over his shoulder and has the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He sends his brother a selfie. _Do I look like David Beckham?_

 _You will never look like David Beckham_ , Scott sends back, but he doesn't rag on Chris's outfit so Chris figures it's a win, and leaves the hotel a spritz of cologne and a minor panic attack later.

*

Sebastian's in tight jeans and a tighter black t-shirt and he looks fucking amazing.

And so do Scarlett, and Grillo.

And Mackie, and Sam and Cobie and Wubby and Stwebe and Ariel from wardrobe and Jonie from makeup. Because all of them are there too. Gathered around a big table in the back of the restaurant. Chris stands in baffled silence for a long time, heart sinks before he even really processes what it means, that Sebastian must have invited all these other people. When Sebastian spots him and grins, waving him over, Chris has a hard time smiling back.

"Looks like Liz Taylor here finally made it in," says Sam, and Mackie whistles appreciatively.

"Damn, kid, hot date later or somethin'?"

Chris tries very hard to keep his face from showing anything at all, but Scarlett's smile turns into a thoughtful frown and her eyebrows draw together as he approaches. He forces another grin. "What can I say? When ya got it..."

"No clichés," says Scarlett. Her frown deepens when Chris drops down into the empty seat at the head of the table next to her, instead of the one by Sebastian at the other end. Scarlett taps her foot against his ankle gently, expression concerned. Chris ignores it, and when Sebastian tries to catch his eye he quickly looks away to engage Ariel next to him in animated conversation about the pot of hot tea she has in front of her. He may seem a bit too enthusiastic – Ariel looks a little alarmed – but his heart is pounding and he's embarrassed as hell; tea is about as much as he can handle talking about right now.

He's able to avoid Sebastian until after they order, when he gets up to get a drink from the bar across the restaurant and Sebastian joins him.

"This place is great," Sebastian says, which is inane and Chris would give him shit about it normally, but he's so off-kilter he reverts to his default Polite Stranger voice.

"Yeah, I heard it's supposed to be. Y'know. Nice, or whatever."

Sebastian smiles, but it's sort of weak and his shoulders hunch in a little as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Chris is terrified that he's about to apologize, wants to cut it off before he gets the chance because that would be even more mortifying than this already is, but when Sebastian's hand grips his shoulder it knocks the ability to speak right out of him.

"Hey," Sebastian murmurs, leaning in so no one milling around can hear. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Chris says, and the hopeful look on Sebastian's face makes him smile even though he doesn't want to. "Yeah, man, I'm fine. Sorry. Just a long day, y'know?"

Sebastian looks incredibly relieved, and Chris has no idea why, or what it means, but he lets Sebastian buy him a vodka martini for each hand anyway.

They go to a club after dinner. It's dark and loud and packed with people, but Chris is tipsy enough that it doesn't bother him as much as it normally would. They commandeer a big booth in the corner and, as per tradition, start out with what Sam calls the Top Three.

"What's the Top Three?" Mackie asks. It's his and Sebastian's first time out with Sam and they both look understandable wary. Sam flashes a grin, adjusting his cap.

"Three shots to start us out," he explains, flagging down a waitress. "Bourbon, tequila, gin."

"To start us out," Mackie repeats in a dry voice after Sam's ordered the rounds.

"You sayin' you can't handle it?" Sam challenges, eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if I can," says Sebastian. "I mean I can _do_ it but I'll be really drunk."

"You're already mostly drunk," Stweeby points out.

Sebastian grins stupidly. "You have a point."

"It'll be good," Chris tells him, and then frowns, because he's supposed to be embarrassed and not talking to Sebastian after he turned their date into a group outing so he wouldn't have to be alone with Chris. He's never had much control over his mouth though, and Sebastian looks pleasantly surprised that Chris is talking to him. He's so confusing. "Together it all tastes like Christmas trees. 'Cause of the gin."

Sam mutters something about useless kids, and when their shots are delivered, presides over the proceedings. Chris is born and bred Boston Irish Catholic. He can hold his liquor like nobody's business, and he always drinks far beyond what he can hold. After three shots he's a little more tipsy than he was before. After seven he's wiped. He's slumped in the booth with Grillo and Sam, sipping at some fruity blue vodka thing Scarlett had handed him when she dragged everyone else out to the dance floor. They're not too far away, and Mackie can dance but of the group he's the only one. Scarlett and Sebastian especially look like idiots.

"It's not fair," says Chris loudly around the straw in his mouth. It's just a stirrer straw. He tries to spit it out violently but it gets stuck on his lip for a second and then droops sadly to the table top. Sam laughs at him. Chris would point out that Sam is at least as shitfaced as Chris is, because he _is_ , but no one would believe him. Grillo is a lot nicer. 

"What's not fair, kiddo?"

"What?" says Chris. He slides his gaze sluggishly from Grillo's fingers on the table, up his arm to his shoulder and finally his face. Grillo looks alarmingly sober. Chris glares balefully at him. "You’re his favorite."

Grillo lifts an eyebrow. "Whose? Sebastian's?"

" _Yes_ ," says Chris. Scarlett's drink tastes like Kool-Aid. Chris downs it like a shot and slams the glass on the table. The little umbrella falls out. Grillo picks it up and tucks it behind Chris's ear.

"I'm not his favorite," he says.

"He's always asking about you," says Chris. "Wants to know if you're on set, and stuff. He never asks if I'm on set."

Sam hums thoughtfully. "How would you know? If you're not there."

Chris glares at him, too, and Sam reaches across the table to pinch his cheek and calls him precious until Chris bats his hand away.

"Get off," he says grumpily. The umbrella toothpick is kind of poking him but it's sort of nice, makes his head spin less. Grillo squeezes his shoulder once before letting him go.

"You're always on set, though," he says. "You're in almost every scene. It's Captain America. And you're Captain America."

"That doesn't mean anything," Chris argues. "It's called Captain America: The Winter Soldier. He's in the title too, and he's only in like four scenes."

He looks wistfully at the stage over Sam's shoulder, where glow-in-the-dark neon paint is flying everywhere and the DJ is bobbing his whole body along with the beat, and then he looks at Sebastian, dancing with Ariel and Stweeby and Wubby, bottom teeth digging into his bottom lip. "He should be the star. He's the best actor of everyone in the movie."

"Yeah, absolutely," Grillo says with a dry smile. "Blows Robert Redford out of the water."

"He _does_ ," Chris says, and then hiccups. Mackie dances back onto the floor with shots in hand and passes them out among the crowd dancing. Chris watches Sebastian tilt his head back to swallow it down, the rise and fall of his Adam's apple, and then turns back to face Sam and Grillo, who are staring at him. "What?"

"Not a damn thing, Evansy," says Sam. 

Chris doesn't believe him but he's already forgotten what they were talking about. He sighs loudly and turns to Grillo, who is finishing his beer. Chris waits impatiently until he has his full attention. "Grillo. _Grillo_."

"What's up?" Grillo asks, smiling indulgently. Chris bristles. He does not need to be _indulged_. He is a _grown up_.

" _Fuck you_ ," Chris tells him. Sam is laughing again, and Grillo looks obnoxiously serene. Chris prods him sharply in the chest. "Why are you so...Why you gotta be so...Like. Y'know? Fuckin' asshole, man."

"Sorry," says Grillo. Chris's anger immediately gives way to guilt, a lot of it, even though Grillo still looks like he's trying not to laugh. Chris pats his chest, eyes prickling, and then pulls him into a hug.

"I didn't mean it. You're not an asshole. I'm an asshole."

"Jesus fucking Christ," says Sam.

Grillo pats Chris's back consolingly. "It's okay, man."

"Hey," says Chris. He cups Grillo's face in both his hands. "Hey, I love you, dude, y'know?"

Grillo nods as solemnly as he can with Chris's hands on his cheeks squishing his lips into a fish face. "I love you too."

Chris doesn't care, he has too much to say to have time for over-emotional declarations from Grillo. "And I love Sebastian, y'know? I just. I really like him. I think he's, like. He's just so gorgeous, isn't he? And sweet, right? Sam?"

Sam toasts Chris with what must be his like eleventh glass of scotch. "Cute as a button."

"As a _button_ ," says Chris. "Button. God, his butt. And his legs. And his back. And his face. God, his _face_. Have you see him? Have you seen him act with his face? It's so fucking—He's fucking incredible."

"Can't tell so much, with the mask," Sam offers.

"I hate that mask," Chris says fiercely. "How could they make him wear a _mask_ when he's so—"

Grillo clears his throat loudly, looking over Chris's shoulder, and Chris turns his head to see the hazy image of Sebastian coming toward him, smiling hugely, Mackie and Stweeby behind him. Mackie and Stweeby slump into the booth, jostling Sam so hard he nearly spills his drink, and all three of them break into roaring laughter.

It's not that funny and Chris is about to tell them so but gets distracted by Scarlett climbing over his lap to sit down between him and Grillo. She belches loudly and pats her chest, demanding another round of shots, and Sebastian curls his fingers into Chris's shirt.

"Chris!" he says. "Hey!"

"Your _face!_ " Chris shouts passionately.

Sebastian touches his own cheeks, confused, and then shrugs and grins, grabbing at Chris again. "C'mon, man. Come dance. Let's dance. Wanna dance?"

Chris isn't even entirely sure that he can stand up right now. "Yes," he says, and lets Sebastian pull him to his feet.

As they stumble to the dance floor Sebastian's expression is all lit up with happiness, pretty as a picture, and Chris can hardly bear it. "You shouldn't have to cover your face," he says.

"My face isn't covered," Sebastian points out. He's bobbing his head to the beat, stretching his arms toward the ceiling as he dances. Chris grazes his fingers over the strip of his belly that's revealed when his shirt rides up and Sebastian bites his lip, cheeks flushed and wisps of his hair fallen out of his ponytail and around his face, sticking to his skin. Chris shakes his head, the room spinning pleasantly.

"It's not fair," he says again.

"What're you talkin' about, dude?" says Sebastian. "Dance with me."

"Things should be easier," Chris murmurs. He curls his hands around the sharp wings of Sebastian's hips, vaguely aware that they're in a very public place and he would never, ever be able to do this sober, but it's a distant, irrelevant concern. Sebastian steps up close, cups his hand around the nape of Chris's neck. His eyes are dark and he looks almost hungry under the strobe lights, but it doesn't make any sense. He invited all these other people to come out with them so he wouldn't have to be alone with Chris, and if he doesn't want to be alone with Chris then why is he looking at Chris like he wants to crawl inside him? Is he lonely? Bored? Just messing around? It's not fair of Sebastian to touch him like this if he doesn't really want him. "Basha."

"I love this song," Sebastian says. Chris has no idea what this song is, something loud and bassy. Chris is moving with it, though, following the dip of Sebastian's hips with his own. There's still space between them, enough that Chris can see Sebastian's lips pull into a smile when he cards his fingers through Chris's hair.

They dance for what feels like hours, with each other and with a couple of girls who approach, and when Sebastian accepts both girls' numbers before they leave, Chris pretends it doesn't ache in his chest, and he forgets all about it as soon as their out of sight, when Sebastian sidles up close for one last song.

"What're you..." Chris starts, but Sebastian just laughs, breathy and sweet, arms circling Chris's neck. It's a filthy sort of song that's playing, but Chris still slides his hands down Sebastian's back, hooks his thumbs into the back pockets of Sebastian's tight jeans and aligns their hips.

Sebastian makes a sound that catches in his throat, lets it out with a breathy gasp and curls his fingers into Chris's hair. Sebastian's hard, and Chris realizes with a jolt that he is, too, dick fattening up in his jeans just from this. The tension between them is crackling and entirely sexual and Chris has no idea what to do but let it roll over him. He squeezes Sebastian's ass and touches their foreheads together as they slow grind in the middle of the dance floor, closes his eyes at the feel of Sebastian's breath against his lips and tries not to think.

*

They share a cab home with Sam, Mackie and Grillo and Chris forgets most of the trip as soon as it's over. They stagger into the hotel as a group, and when the others make for the elevator Chris announces loudly that he's going to take the stairs, instead. In a cunning display of discretion, Sebastian says, "Oh, uh, yeah, uh, me too" and they make like a tree and leaf before Scarlett can say what her face looks like it wants to say.

They're the only ones in the stairwell, which is brightly lit with a cement floor and white brick walls and quiet save for the buzz from fluorescent lights. Sebastian's cheeks are flushed and his eyes a little wide and such a pretty dark blue. Chris watches his tongue snake out to wet his lips. "Our rooms are on the fifteenth floor," Sebastian says, voice rough.

"We're not taking the stairs," Chris assures him. Sebastian swears under his breath and hooks his fingers into Chris's belt loops and Chris loses any willpower he may have had. 

Sebastian's back hits the closed door as Chris cages him in with his body, wraps one of his hands around one of Sebastian's wrists and pins it to the door by his head. Sebastian lets out a hungry sound and palms over Chris's flank, hand burning hot through Chris's shirt and enough to pull a feral sound out of Chris's chest before he cups Sebastian's jaw, tilts his chin up and slants their mouths together.

Chris has thought about kissing Sebastian pretty much all day every day since they met, but always in the abstract. He'd never accounted for the way it makes electricity sizzle in his veins, makes his heart pound and his blood thrum. He never considered that Sebastian would have the plushest, softest lips Chris has ever kissed or how it would tug hotly just behind Chris's navel when Sebastian opens right up to coax Chris's tongue inside. In Chris's head, Sebastian's kiss would always taste like toothpaste or the mint gum Sebastian chews all the time or the chocolate-dipped strawberries Chris has been lovingly feeding him while they like together naked on a cloud, but he just tastes like wet skin and mouth and it's so much sexier than any of Chris's fantasies.

Chris gently digs his fingers into the hinge of Sebastian's jaw, swallows Sebastian's little gasp when Chris eases a knee between his legs. Chris feels wild, frantic, drunk off his face and his whole world narrowed down to Sebastian. Sebastian's hands under his shirt and on his skin, Sebastian's long body pressed all along Chris's, Sebastian's nipples hard through the flimsy t-shirt he's wearing, Sebastian's tongue curling into Chris's mouth and his thumbs swiping across the waistband of Chris's jeans. Chris worries Sebastian's lower lip between his teeth when they break for air, slides his hands down Sebastian's back to squeeze his ass and guides Sebastian to grind down into his thigh. 

"If I'd known all it took was a little kiss to wind you up—"

"Fuck off," Sebastian says easily, mouthing along Chris's jaw.

"Is that a— _ah_ —a roll of quarters in your pocket or are you just— _Jesus_ —happy to see me?"

Sebastian laughs and pinches Chris in the side. Shoves him away—"Shut up you asshole,"—only to pull him back in again until they're as close as it's possible to get. He touches his smile to Chris's throat, tongues over the throb of his pulse. Chris bites his lip on a moan and tugs on Sebastian hair, mostly fallen out of its ponytail, until he lifts his head and licks into Chris's mouth again.

Sebastian's hand is scorching hot on Chris's belly and his breathing is heavy, his mouth swollen and red when he breaks the kiss, wide-eyed and dazed with want. "Let me suck you off," he whispers.

Chris makes some sort of wounded animal noise that rumbles in his chest and doesn't fight it when Sebastian flips them. Chris's back hits the door with a little thump, and he watches breathless as Sebastian, graceful as anything, sinks to his knees, shoves Chris's jeans and boxer-briefs down his thighs and guides Chris's dick between his lips.

" _Oh_ ," says Chris.

It's wet, like Sebastian's mouth has been watering just waiting for Chris's cock and when he swallows it tugs at the crown of Chris's prick, makes his abs clench and the heat in his belly swoop. Chris's eyes want to close but he can't tear his gaze away from Sebastian's face, eyelashes dark smudges on his cheeks and brow furrowed in concentration as he tongues the underside of Chris's cock, pulling him in deeper. His fist around the base contracts, leaves Chris panting, and Sebastian's eyes flutter open. Chris grazes his fingers over his cheek, presses his thumb to the stretched corner of Sebastian's plump lips as he sinks further inside. In the over-bright lights and Chris's booze-vision, Sebastian glows around the edges a little, on his knees with Chris's cock in his mouth.

Chris's head falls back against the door, and he knows he's babbling but has no idea what he's saying, doesn't have much of a chance to say _anything_ because he comes in like four seconds. His orgasm ricochets off every nerve ending, dizzying and intense. He threads his fingers into Sebastian's hair and bites his own lip as he shoots off, comes so hard his toes curl and even with his eyes closed his vision goes white. It leaves him trembling and weak-kneed and gasping for breath, his lungs burning.

The absence of the wet heat of Sebastian's mouth around his cock brings him partially back to his senses. He blinks his heavy eyelids open to see Sebastian with his forehead on Chris's hip, jeans undone and boxer-briefs shoved out of the way and jerking his thick cock in rough pulls. Chris pulls his pants up and drops to his knees, tugs Sebastian's hand away and swallows the drunken whine of protest Sebastian lets out. He tastes like Chris's come, now, and his kiss is sloppy and desperate.

"Chris, Chris," he pants, tucking his face into Chris's neck. His wrists are caught in Chris's hands.

"Lemme," Chris murmurs desperately, relinquishing one of Sebastian's wrists to wrap his hand around Sebastian's prick. "Fuck, lemme do it."

Sebastian's _loud_ , moans and soft little sobs of pleasure muffled by Chris's neck. He rocks his hips into Chris's fist as Chris jerks him, clutches so hard at Chris's back there'll be bruises tomorrow and he's fucking beautiful when he comes, body tense and eyes half-closed and looking just utterly wrecked. Chris kisses him, squeezes the wrist still in the circle of his hand and lets Sebastian ride through it, fucking Chris's loose fist and slicking Chris's hand up with his come. Chris gentles the kiss as Sebastian trembles, comes down with little hitched breaths, and murmuring Chris's name against his lips. His grip on Chris's back eases, and Chris thumbs over the inside of Sebastian's wrist before he lets it go.

"Fuck," he hears Sebastian whisper, but everything is too bright and spinning and Chris can't hear much of anything past the blood pounding in his head.

He doesn't really remember getting to his room, but he remembers hands on his back and neck and hair in the elevator and laughing hysterically at something that probably wasn't funny. He remembers having to give Sebastian his jacket to cover up the come stain on his shirt before they could leave the stairwell, and he vividly recalls spending a miserable hour and a half with his head in the toilet.

He doesn't remember crawling back into bed, but he wakes up alone Thursday morning at eight-thirty with not a single text, a hangover worthy of a god, and a heart that feels at least a little bit broken.

**_tbc_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an apology and distraction from the fact that it's been two months, I made a little evanstan gif AU [here on my Tumblr](http://checkthemargins.tumblr.com/post/94878759007/evanstan-au-where-theyre-dating). I learned to make GIFS, you guys. God help us all.


End file.
